


Papa's Little Princess

by tillyenna



Series: NYR Punishment verse [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, BDSM, D/s, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Feminization, Flogging, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, M/M, Off Screen Negotiation, Orgasm Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna
Summary: This happens immediately after Heir to The Throne, and covers the next few hours. Henrik helps Igor get ready for Casino night, the boys have fun at casino night, and then Henrik takes his princess home for a reward afterwards.
Relationships: Henrik Lundqvist/Igor Shesterkin
Series: NYR Punishment verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654312
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	Papa's Little Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Whilst this fic does contain daddy kink themes, it doesn't contain the word daddy... only ever papa *shrug* 
> 
> You can assume that if the russian boys are talking to the russian boys, then they're speaking russian.  
> During Igor's POV  
> Tyomek = Artemi Panarin  
> Pasha = Pavel Buchnevich  
> Sasha = Alexandar Georgiev

##  _ Igor’s POV _

Igor had hoped that Henrik would take him straight back to bed, but instead he kissed him once, utterly thoroughly, and then told him to kneel beside his chair in the kitchen. The tiled floor is harsh on his knees, but he doesn’t mind it, it helps him fall into that comfortable numbness where he doesn’t try to follow Henrik’s movements around the kitchen. It’s only a few minutes before Henrik slides back into his seat, a plate of what is clearly his lunch beside him – it’s been a few hours since breakfast, and Igor thinks briefly of his own stomach, when a hand appears in front of his face, holding out a chunk of bread.

He can’t not blush as he leans forward, taking the bread from Henrik’s fingers with his mouth as gently as he can. He’s rewarded with Henrik’s hand carding through his hair and a quiet, “Good girl.”

After feeding himself a few mouthfuls, and handing the same number down to Igor, Henrik hums contemplatively, “I’ll need you to give me a copy of your nutrition plan, ok Princess?”

“Yes Papa,” Igor’s looking up at him, eyes wide, a grin starting to tug at the corners of his mouth.

He’s not rewarded with the same groan as he was the last time he’d used that word, but Henrik glances down at him with a fond smile on his face. “Minx,” he says. Igor is momentarily confused, it’s not a word he knows, and it must show on his face because Henrik clarifies, “It means you’re cheeky.”

Igor headbutts his thigh, and grins at him, because cheeky is a word he definitely knows.

Lunch passes far quicker than either of them want it to, with soft touches and knowing glances, but when Henrik decides they’ve both eaten enough, he pulls Igor up to standing, making him stretch out his legs before he draws him into his arms. “Casino night tonight, Princess.”

“Da,” Igor smiles at him, wanting to kiss him, not knowing if he’s allowed.

“You have a suit ready?”

Igor nods, it’s waiting in his apartment back home.

“Go home and get your suit, and everything you’ll need for tomorrow,” Henrik instructs him, “And then come straight back here – I want you to get ready with me.”

“Yes Papa,” Igor bites his lip, before, feeling bold, asking, “Am like kiss?”

Henrik grins at him. “When you get back,” he promises. “As soon as you get back.”

Igor doesn’t take long to put on his own clothes from the night before heading out the door, a longing glance at Henrik before he closes it behind him. He takes a cab back into the city, paying the driver to wait while he grabs his things – it’s an extravagance, but it’s not like he can’t afford it. They have casino night, and then an off day afterwards, which means he doesn’t need to grab much beyond his suit and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t even bother changing back out of his clothes from the night before, just throwing his overnight things in a bag and grabbing his suit bag and heading back out the door.

As soon as he gets back to Henrik’s, he lets himself in with the key Henrik had lent him, and then, placing his bags down, kneels quietly by the shut door, waiting patiently.

Henrik hears the door, and heads to meet Igor, giving a soft chuckle at the sight which greets him, Igor kneeling for him, his suit bag hanging on the coatrack by the door. “Such a good girl,” he croons softly, walking closer. “I’m going to get a collar for you, and we’ll keep it here by the door so you can put it on as soon as you walk through the door.”

Igor beams up at him, and at Henrik’s gesture, stretches gracefully up onto his feet. “Have kiss now?” he asks, unable to hide his desire and joy.

Henrik groans, checking his watch, and then reaches out to slip an arm around Igor’s waist. “Just kisses,” he warns, his voice stern where his face is soft, “Because we need to get ready soon.”

“Da,” Igor nods, and then closes the distance between them, because he might not have been given permission just yet but he can’t wait another second to feel Henrik’s mouth against his own. There’s a hint of stubble, and he tastes of expensive coffee and Igor finds himself melting a little bit as Henke uses both arms to pull him closer. He gasps a little, and Henrik chooses that moment to slip his tongue into Igor’s mouth, and he’s gone, he becomes nothing but the points where Henrik’s body touches his, he can feel nothing but the flicker of Henke’s tongue against his, hear nothing but the soft huff of his breath, smell nothing but the scent of his body wash, taste nothing but the coffee he’d just finished.

Henrik draws him closer, pressing them together until there’s not an inch of them that isn’t touching.

Igor swears softly in Russian, if it weren’t for Henrik’s strong arms around him he’d have fallen to the floor already, his knees weak.

Henrik lets out a soft huff of laughter, and then bends his head to press soft kisses to Igor’s neck, watching as the younger man tilts his head back in delight, mumbling incoherent phrases in no clear language. “You’re so beautiful Princess,” he mutters against Igor’s skin, “So beautiful.” He grazes the soft skin of his neck with his teeth, before straightening up and pulling away, “We need to start getting ready.”

Igor groans, he can’t help himself from reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his now straining erection. “Tease.” He pouts softly, blinking owlishly at Henrik.

Henrik just hums, and grabs him by the hand, lacing their fingers together, “Come on you.” He reaches down to grab Igor’s bag for him, and leads him back into the bedroom.

##  _ Henrik’s POV _

It’s strangely domestic, the two of them getting ready together. Henrik makes sure they shower separately, knowing that they’ll just waste time if they shower together, but he tells Igor to shave while he watches from the shower, the steam from the water enveloping them both.

His own suit is waiting hung up on the back of his closet door – he’d chosen the tuxedo by Stephen F, something he always does for casino night, because he knows it falls upon him to be the fashionable face of the team, and he takes pride in how he looks, takes pride in being the best dressed man out there. Tonight however, he wants Igor beside him, looking just as good.

Igor’s tuxedo is reasonably plain, but elegant, and he watches appreciatively as he steps into his dress shirt, but stops him with a hand when he reaches out for his cufflinks.

“Not yet.” He instructs, going to his jewellery case, and sorting through for the ones he wants. Henke’s always been good at sharing, never had a problem sharing Mats with Marc, never had a problem sharing any of his boys with the rest of the team, but there’s something about his young teammate that makes him want to put a brand on him, put a stamp on him so everyone knows that he belongs to Henrik. The cufflinks he picks out are simple, just a plain golden crown, his usual distinctive shape, with the number 30 etched into them. He walks over to Igor, and pulls him close by his belt loops, before taking one of his wrists, and slotting the cufflink through the link holes.

When he’s finished fastening the first one, Igor silently hands him his other wrist, drawing the first up to inspect it, to see what Henrik’s chosen for him, and when he sees it he lets out a little whimper. “Papa,” he says softly, looking at Henrik with wide brown eyes.

“I told you,” Henrik drops his hand, reaching up to softly stroke his face, “I own you now, you’re mine.”

Igor whimpers again, and lets his head fall forward onto Henrik’s shoulder. For a moment, Henrik wants to just stay home, to put Igor in his bed and keep him there forever, bury himself in his sweet princess, but he knows they have to go. 

“I’ll be beside you,” Henrik wraps his arms around Igor, holding him close, “I’ll never be more than a few steps away, all evening.” He’s not sure whether it’s a promise more to Igor or to himself.

Igor nods, taking a breath, and straightening himself up, before going to grab his jacket. Next, he draws the bowtie out of its hanger, and with a sheepish grin, holds it up to Henrik. “Am not know….” He falters

Henrik grins at him, “Gladly,” he says, taking it out of Igor’s hands and slipping it around his neck. He loves standing this close to him, loves how still Igor holds himself as his fingers work the tie into the perfect bow, loves how Igor’s eyes flicker over his face, studying him intently, loves how the tension between them crackles in the air.

Before they walk out the door, Henrik takes a moment to drag Igor in front of the full length mirror, wrapping his arms around Igor’s waist, staring at the two of them. They make a handsome pair, Henrik in his ridiculously expensive suit, elegant in its simplicity – he knows some of the others will be wearing gaudy colours, but he also knows how to look good, and the satin of the lapels contrasts with the velvet of the main body, a texture which is picked up again in his bowtie. Igor stands in front of him, clearly nervous, his suit nowhere near as flashy as Henrik’s, but perfect in it’s understatement.

Henrik meets his eyes in the mirror, “Look at yourself Princess,” he croons softly, “Doesn’t Papa’s girl look beautiful.”

Igor flushes a deep dark red, his pleasure at the comment utterly evident and it sparks something warm deep in Henrik’s gut.

“Come on,” Henrik presses a kiss to his cheek, “Car’s waiting outside.”

“Can…” Igors eyes flicker to him for just a moment, “Am kiss before go?”

Henrik grins, and pulls him in close, kissing him resolutely once. “More when we get back Princess, that’s enough for now.”

Igor nods, and mutely follows him out the door.

##  _ Igor’s POV _

The car ride is short, and they sit mostly in silence, Igor feeling the distance between them as an almost tangible thing. He wants to reach out and touch Henrik, but instead, he glances down at the cufflinks, reaching down to stroke one of them, wondering if any of their teammates will notice.

They’re directed to arrive to a back room, away from all the paying customers, so they can make their big entrances, and as soon as they arrive, Igor is pulled away by Pasha and Tyomek, kisses being pressed to his face before he can turn around and wonder what’s happened to Henke

“What happened?” Pasha asks him, a grin on his face, “I hear about Henka nesting, but,” he gives a shrug, “I’ve been here too long and the others said he only wanted rookies.”

Igor flushes dark red, “I was mostly watching,” he tells his friend, “And maybe…” his eyes flash around the room, “Got my mouth on Howdy.”

“Not Henka?” Tyomek asks, “You’ve been thirsting after him since you arrived.”

Igor levels a glare at his teammate, but he takes the chirp well, “He asked me to stay after the others left though,” he grins, unashamed, he knows he can share that much.

“And he still didn’t fuck you?” Pasha laughs, “What are you going to have to do? Get down on your knees and beg?”

Igor can’t bring himself to mention that he had done, just flushing a bright red, and it’s at that moment Sasha appears, so all conversation of Henke stops, and the chirping turns to a different topic.

“What is this?” Tyomek starts giggling, stroking the side of Sasha’s suit, “You wearing a couch?”

Sasha glares at him, “I look elegant.” His gaze rakes over their suits, before landing on Igor’s, “At least I look interesting.”

Igor glares at Sasha, but doesn’t bother responding to him, because Henke knows he looks good and that’s all that matters 

He finds himself searching the room for Henke, and his eyes land on him, of course he’s talking to Chris and Mika, Mika looking elegant in a pale grey tuxedo which is frankly the most beautiful tuxedo that Igor has ever seen, which is quite something given he’d studied each of Henrik’s past tuxedos for casino night when choosing his own.

It seems like the night drags, even as it’s fun. Igor finds himself constantly watching for Henke, constantly seeking him out across the room.

Just once, Henke passes him a glass of champagne, and then lets his fingers trail up the inside of his wrist, and Igor has to take deep calming breaths to stop himself growing hard in his dress pants. Then Henke leans in, and whispers, “This is your only alcohol tonight, ok? I want you sober.” And Igor has to physically stop himself from shivering.

He spends most of the night glued to Tyomek and Pasha, they can translate when the fans ask him questions too fast, and it’s nice not having to understand English after having so many difficult conversations over the past 24 hours. Not that he minds having had them, but it’s nice to be able to relax with his friends.

They end up gravitating towards Mika and Chris a lot, and Igor can’t help his fingers going to the bowtie that Henke tied for him when he looks at Chris’ straggly badly tied regular tie. Chris follows their conversations in Russian, and there’s a little nudging and teasing about the previous night before they’re told by PR to separate, because they’re there to talk to fans, not each other.

It’s over halfway through the night when he feels a hand on the small of his back, but then when he turns with a blinding smile, expecting Henke behind him, and his smile only falters a little when he sees Howdy instead.

“Hey,” Howdy grins at him, “How is my favourite goalie?”

Igor’s never been more glad that Sasha is in their little group of Russian speakers at that moment, and he can feel his colleague tense beside him.

“Is fun,” he grins at Howdy, “We think Foxy is feel better?”

“He hasn’t sat down all evening,” Howdy grins at him, nudging Igor with his shoulder.

Igor blushes, and grins at him, before letting Howdy draw him away for a few minutes. He doesn’t last long without his safety net of translators, but it’s nice to walk around with one of his other teammates, and for the first time, he begins to wonder if these boys really are his team after all.

By the time the evening is winding up, Igor is exhausted. He’d caught a few hours sleep that morning in Henrik’s bed, but nothing more since the previous day, and even though he hadn’t been starting, it had been a game day. He finds himself drawn to Henke, he’s long since stopped translating the English, and he thinks he might be talking Swedish anyway, since he’s talking to Mika. He leans against Henke, not saying anything, just basking in his presence.

“Tired Princess?” Henke’s voice is soft and calm.

Igor nods, he’s too tired to care about Mika’s raised eyebrow at the pet name.

“We’ll go home.” Henrik says, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

Whilst he’d felt tired, as soon as he’s alone in the cab with Henrik he suddenly wakes up a little, wondering if he’ll finally get what he wants. “Papa?” He asks softly.

Henrik shakes his head softly, holding a finger to his lips.

As soon as they’re inside Henrik’s apartment, Igor finds himself pushed face first into the wall, Henrik stepping up behind him, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Igor’s neck.

“You will tell me now if you are too tired for anything tonight.” It’s a clear instruction, and leaves no room for Igor to lie, but fortunately, he doesn’t have to.

“Not tired Papa, I want.” Igor states simply, he doesn’t have the English to describe quite how much he wants, how much he didn’t care about being tired.

“Good,” Henrik says softly, “Now go to my bedroom and strip, I want you naked and facedown on the bed.”

Igor can feel himself growing hard just at the instruction, he races through to the bedroom, stripping himself out of his suit., he hangs it carefully back on the hanger, placing Henrik’s cufflinks carefully on his bedside cabinet. He’s as fast as he can be, whilst still being meticulously neat, because he knows Henrik will expect it of him.

He doesn’t have long lying face down on the bed before Henrik comes in. He hasn’t been told he can’t, so he turns his head to watch as the older man removes his jacket and tie, puts his cufflinks beside the ones Igor had been wearing, rolling his sleeves up to the elbow.

Igor watches as Henrik walks over to the closet, and when he returns, he’s carrying a flogger.

“Papa!” Igor’s eyes widen in delight.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me,” Henrik tells him, a hand stroking down his bare spine, “I think you deserve a reward.”

Igor can’t help squirming on the bed, thrusting his now very hard cock into Henrik’s expensive sheets.

“Do you want a number before, or shall I just decide for myself when you’re done.”

Igor pouts, “Am not others,” he says sulkily, “Am yours Papa.”

“Good,” Henrik says softly, “Then I’ll decide.”

The first strike of the flogger isn’t hard, but it is a relief, he hasn’t had this in too long, hasn’t been able to let his mind float the way it needs to, but now he’s here, now he’s in Henrik’s care and he doesn’t need to think anymore.

He doesn’t have to count, doesn’t have to think as the blows from the flogger get progressively harder, he finds his mind floating as Henrik works him over until his back, buttocks and thighs are burning with pleasure.

When Henrik pauses, he can barely find the energy to lift his head to look at him, before Henrik is sinking his teeth into one of Igor’s buttocks. He asks him something in English, but Igor doesn’t follow it. “Yours” is all he answers, because it covers everything. Henrik knows what he’s agreed to do, Henrik knows what his limits are, and anything within those, he’s more than happy for Henrik to do.

There’s a huff of amusement from the older man, and then he feels the cold as Henrik steps away. It’s not for long however before Henrik is back, kneeling on the bed beside him and there is one big hand on his buttocks. The next thing he feels is a cool slick finger pressing at his entrance. He can’t help but slide his legs further apart, welcoming Henrik into him.

“Slut,” Henrik mutters fondly, “Papa’s good slut aren’t you.”

Igor whimpers, and stretches his legs further apart. He fucks himself regularly with his dildos, so he doesn’t think he needs that much prep, but Henrik seems to delight in taking his time, pressing ruthlessly against his prostate with every stroke.

“You don’t come until Papa tells you to,” Henrik whispers in his ear.

It feels like an age of Henrik stretching him open on his fingers before he can feel the press of the head of Henrik’s cock up against his entrance. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, begging, thanking him, he’s sure he’s not speaking English anymore regardless of how hard he’s trying.

Every stroke of Henrik’s cock lights him up from the inside with pleasure, and when Henrik drags him up onto his knees and fucks into him with earnest he knows he isn’t going to last long.

“Papa,” he wails, “Henka, please.”

“That’s it Princess,” Henrik reaches around to circle a hand around Igor’s cock, “Beg Papa, my beautiful slut.”

Igor can’t do anything but, there is only Henrik’s name that remains on his tongue, there is nothing else left for him but the feel of Henrik hammering into him. It feels like a lifetime and like no time at all before Henrik is leaning over him and whispering in his ear. “Come for Papa baby girl.” and what can Igor do, but obey him.

His own orgasm takes it out of him, and the world floats away for a moment, he comes back to Henrik panting harshly and pressing kisses into Igor’s hair.

“Papa,” he murmurs happily.

“Oh my good girl,” Henrik coos, “You are Papa’s beautiful princess aren’t you.”

Igor can’t help the happy little wriggle that escapes, he glances over his shoulder at Henrik, grinning up at the older man. He groans a little as Henrik pulls out, hating the empty feelings, but when Henrik twists him round and pulls him into his now naked chest he feels content again.

“When you no clothes?” he asks sleepily.

“After I flogged you.” Henrik admits, “You were a little out of it my love.”

“Best Papa,” Igor turns to press a kiss to Henrik’s lips.

“Debrief in the morning love,” Henrik says softly, “I just want to cuddle you now.”

“Da,” Igor grins, “You give cuddles.” He blushes a little as he adds, “You give kisses.”

“Fuck Princess,” Henrik mutters against his cheek, “I want to give you the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> there's another scene with these two written for y'all :D also, come see me on tumblr [@princesstillyenna](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/princesstillyenna/) where we can cry about the fact that henke isn't a ranger anymore.


End file.
